


Books and Madness

by Fcrants



Series: Rambling Snips [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-06-25 19:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15647088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fcrants/pseuds/Fcrants
Summary: Sixth Year AUHarry finally asked Hermione why she was so against the Half-Blood Prince's book.





	1. Chapter 1

Twelve inches of parchment. That's how much Harry had to write for his Potions essay. It wasn't at all difficult— the Prince's book was a godsend— but it was an especially clear day and his dorm mates had invited him to play some Quidditch. One look from Hermione and he knew he had to refuse.  


It was a shame, really. Gryffindor had just one the first game of the season and they were still riding the high from their victory. He looked out of the window, knowing that he couldn't just skeeve off, but still wishing that he could go out.  


He shook his head and went back to his essay. He looked through the Prince's notes, hoping to find something that would round out his work. Hermione's sigh caught his attention.

 

"What is it, Hermione?" He said, already annoyed.  


Hermione huffed, gave his Potions book a dirty look, and went back to her reading.

 

It wasn't the first time that he and Hermione had a row that week. If it wasn't sparked by his Potions book, it was about Malfoy. It didn't help that he used her to fool Ron into thinking that he slipped some Liquid Luck into his goblet too. The memory of her crying that night sobered him. He rubbed his face and took a deep breath, trying to drive away the last of his irritation.

 

"Hermione, why are you so against this book?" He said, trying to keep his voice as level as he could.  


She put down her book and looked at him, "Because it's dangerous, Harry. You don't know what's really written in it."  


"But it works!" He said, trying and failing to keep the exasperation from his voice.  


"You don't know that for sure! What if they made a mistake, or wrote the wrong thing down, or the spells they have there isn't as harmless as you think!" She said, wiping the tears that slipped from her eyes. "But you're not going to listen, are you?"  


She stood and made to tidy up her stuff.

 

"Hermione,” Harry said, grabbing her arm. "I'm sorry."

 

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "You're sorry?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm sorry," he said. "I-l wasn't thinking."   
  
"No. You weren't." She sat down slowly, still skeptical and very much surprised at the turn of events. "What brought this on, Harry?"   
  
He gave her a wry smile and held her hand, "The third year. I promised myself I wouldn't let something as stupid as broom come between our friendship again, I'm not about to let a book do the same."   
  
Harry wasn't expecting his vision to suddenly be blocked by a mass of brown hair, but he felt lighter for it. He hugged her back, happy to clear away the air between them. She broke free from their embrace and looked at him, smiling brightly for the first time in ages.   
  
"Thank you."   
  
"I still think the book is useful, though." He said.   
  
"Harry, wha—"   
  
"So... Would you help me?" Harry interrupted. "Would you help me look through the stuff written in here?"   
  
"And how are we to do that?" She said, crossing her arms.   
  
"I'll ask Professor Slughorn if he could spare us a room," he said. "Come on, Hermione. Don't tell me you're not even a little bit curious."   
  
"Are you even sure he'll let us?"   
  
Harry just raised his eyebrows and smirked.   
  
"Right. Right," she said. "You really want to do this, don't you?"   
  
"Please, Hermione. I really think it would do us good."   
  
She sighed, resigned that she'll be pulled in to another of Harry Potter's schemes. "Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione's face was on fire. Not literally, she knew, but it was hard to dismiss the thought when she could feel the heat radiating from her face. It had started out as such a normal day too, her staring Harry down into doing his essay, them almost getting into a row, routine things that have been the norm in their sixth year. But nothing was truly normal when you're friends with Harry Potter. Now she found herself alone with Harry in an unused Potions room. That wasn't the reason for her embarrassment though. That was all Professor Slughorn's doing.

 

_"Aha! I see you've taken after your father as well," Slughorn said, laughing, his belly jiggling as he did so. He twirled his walrus-like mustache like an odd Saint Nick, looking at both of them fondly. "Your father did always go for brilliant witches. Of course, you both could use a Potions classroom. Just make sure to clean up after yourselves when you’re done."_

 

Silence had hung over them as they prepared the ingredients for the Prince's Potion. It hadn't helped that Harry hadn't denied anything the Professor said. She hadn't really thought of Harry that way. She didn't even let herself. Harry was too... Harry. He didn't think that of her, did he?   
  
"Er... Hermione?" Harry said, startling her.

 

"Y-yes?"   
  
"Shouldn't we start soon?" He said. "The potion needs quite a bit of time to brew."   


“Right! The Draught of Living Death.” She said, fumbling for the Prince’s book. “Yes. We should get to work.”

 

Hermione was all too eager to put the whole thing behind them and buried herself into the work. She let the silence hang between them, speaking only when needed, putting all her attention at the potion they were brewing. Finally, she sighed, conceding defeat.   


"Fine. You were right," she said, staring at the clear potion in front of them. "But I still don't understand why. It’s possible that the potion brews quicker with more juice from the Sopophorous beans, but why does adding a clockwise stir help?"  


"To mix it better?" Harry said, guessing.  


"That's not how stirring works in potion making, Harry." She said, frustrated. "And why does the instruction say to crush it with a silver knife? Won't a steel knife do?"  


Er... Magic?"   
  
Hermione buried her face in her hands, frustrated at the potion not making sense.   
  
"Look, Hermione," Harry said, patting her back. "We could go back to the library and find out why."   
  
"You don't have to come with me," she mumbled. "I'll probably be there till dinner."   


"No. I'll come with you," Harry said earnestly.  
  
"Why?" She said, looking suspicious. "You never really liked Potions. Why now?"   
  
"It's nothing." He said a little too quickly.   
  
"Harry," she said. "That's not going to work on me."   
  
He sighed, still looking away from her. "My mom was great at Potions." 

"Yes, Harry. Professor Slughorn told everyone in our class."  
  
"Yeah, and it took me six years to find that out." He said, his voice rising. "Six years to find out something that I could have found out if I just looked harder. If I just cared to look at all!"   
  
Harry stood up and paced around the room, working himself to a fit, and only stopped when he felt Hermione hugging him. He relaxed into her embrace for the second time that day, pulling her closer, burying his face into her hair.   
  
"I'm sorry," Harry said, voice still thick with emotion.   
  
"It's okay."   
  
"I've been apologizing to you a lot recently, haven't I?"   
  
Hermione shook her head, opting to hold on to him tighter. She knew he had to be hurting after Sirus's death, and had thought to wait until he opened up to her. She had to make things right, but for now, she'll just hold on to him and show him she cares.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry Potter tried not to fidget as he sat in Slughorn's office. Hermione had already gone ahead to the library, and, in a way, he was glad for the reprieve. The awkwardness between him and Hermione after the embrace was so thick that it could've been cut with a knife. So, when Professor Slughorn asked him to stay behind for a moment, he gladly agreed.

Professor Slughorn's office was not what he expected. With two large sofas surrounding a fireplace, access to a private balcony, and a dining table that could seat ten people, it was more apt to call it a salon than an office.

"He must have taken Professor Dumbledore for all that he could," Harry mumbled.

"What was that, Harry?" Slughorn said, coming out of the adjoining room from his office.

"Nothing Professor," he said quickly. "I was just looking around your office."

  
Slughorn chuckled. "Ah yes! This is your first time in my office, isn't it? It was such a shame Severus couldn't be reasoned with. But I will be seeing you at my next dinner party, yes?"

"Er... I'll try Professor," he said, not having any legitimate reason to refuse him outright.

"That's my boy!" Slughorn said. "You'll be coming with Ms Granger, I expect. She's invited, of course. Such a brilliant young witch."

"I did tell you she's the smartest in our year, Professor."

"That she is. That she is." Slughorn said, wistful.

"Er... You wanted to see me, Professor?" Harry said.

"Yes, of course!" Slughorn said, sitting on the sofa beside him and showing him a photograph. "When I saw you with Ms Granger, I remembered that I had this in my office."

It was a picture of Lily and James leaning against each other, quietly laughing together. They were near the lake, backlit by a full moon and clearly dressed up. Harry ran his finger across the picture and choked up when both of them looked up to wave at him. They looked so young, so carefree, so alive.

  
"It was their very first date, you know," Slughorn said, breaking the silence. He looked so wistful, also lost in the memory. "That was on their seventh year. We held a Christmas party, and I was shocked, as a lot of people were, that Lily even gave James the time of day."

Harry was transfixed on the picture of his parents. He felt hollow inside, reminded of all that he had lost.

"Harry, I know you must've been told that you look like your father..." Slughorn began.

"But that I have my mother's eyes, yes."

  
"Now. Now. Let me finish," he said, taking on the amused tone he had when they first met. His eyes softened as he continued. "Harry, no matter how much you look like James, or do the same things as him, you are more like your mother than you can ever imagine. You have her courage and heart, and the fierceness to follow your beliefs. I don't think that has been said enough."

Harry closed his eyes and felt the weight in his chest subside. He'd been chasing his mother's memory since the Professor told him of her. To hear that he was so much like her, he couldn't help but feel warm, that some part of him wasn't empty anymore.

  
He was on his way to the door when Slughorn called out to him. " And Harry, I really am expecting you and Miss Granger on the next meeting of the Slugclub."

He was halfway to the library when he realised what that meant.


End file.
